


La Traviata

by legendarytobes



Series: lucifer bingo 2019 [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark fic, Episode: s04e02 Somebody's Been Reading Dante's Inferno, F/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Convinced by Ella, Chloe takes Lucifer up on his date offer to the opera.





	La Traviata

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deliriumbubbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumbubbles/gifts).



> For the lucifer bingo prompt of "Oblivious."
> 
> Honestly, not gonna lie, this turned out darker than I anticipated. Like a lot.

**La Traviata**

“You need to do this, Chloe. The sooner you send Lucifer back to Hell, the sooner the pain he’s inflicted across Los Angeles stops.”

 

Chloe gripped her cell phone more tightly and hurried to a corner of the precinct far from Ella’s lab where the Devil in question and the forensic scientist were animatedly talking about something over Lucifer’s package. Well, not that package. Just a giant box, and who knew what kind of surprise he’d shoved in there? Still, she didn’t want to risk being overheard so she hurried to an alcove and lowered her voice.

 

“I told you never to call me while I was at work, Kinley.”

 

The priest’s accent became even thicker over the phone, the Scottish brogue somehow making his words more oppressive than they already were. “Jimmy Barnes is raving in an asylum because of your so-called _partner_.”

 

Chloe did not like the extra emphasis on that word, the insinuations in his tone. Once, she’d hoped very much for that. For more. And had it only been a month ago? Even being back, sitting at the piano with Lucifer felt like being home, like nothing had changed. But that wasn’t true. She’d seen his face, knew that Lucifer might not lie, but he certainly hid all that he was. Even now, she couldn’t figure out the truth from the fantasy, the actual history from the Bible or Talmud versus the swirling paranoia of thousands of years of human horror stories and campfire tales. Kinley told her one thing, but her heart told her another.

 

And she was running out of time.

 

“He did try to murder me, almost did,” she wasn’t sure if the defense made sense or not.

 

“And Marcus Pierce?”

 

“Also, not a good man.”  


“How many people has he left screaming in asylums or have suffered in his wake? Would Delilah even be dead if he hadn’t traded her a favor for a career?”  


“You know about the favors?”

 

“The crossroads deals are hardly a new phenomenon. Detective Decker,” he sighed, and it was pure exasperation. “Lucifer is the _Prince of Lies_.”

 

She rankled at that. He’d never lied to her in so many words. It had cost her family justice once, but he’d been unflinchingly honest on the stand because it was who Lucifer was, and you either accepted that or dealt with his lack of filter in your life. The idea of him as the Prince of Lies was ludicrous.

 

_Except you can lie by omission…_

 

That inner voice was haunting her. That no matter what he kept telling her on a loop, no matter how many Devil puns, or weird stories about Cain and Immortal men---whether they turned out to be true or not---he’d never _shown_ her anything. He most likely never would have if it hadn’t been forced out of him after killing Pierce. Not that she was going to shed tears over that psychopath, but Lucifer had never meant to reveal his true, Devilish nature to her. If he had…well, he’d had the face all along, hadn’t he? He could have summoned it forth at any time---in the interrogation room as he was ranting about the Angel of San Bernadino or when he’d sat at her desk trying to…who knew what…be gassy? The time he escaped certain death walking into a virus and deadly gas at that research lab. Hell, after she’d shot him and felt terrible about that. He could have shown her dozens of times.

 

And he hadn’t.

 

Because he could tell the truth to her face and be confident that because she was sane or had been once at least, she would never believe a word of it. Just as Ella and Dan didn’t now.

 

“Detective Decker?” Father Kinley’s voice had taken on the barest tinge of concern. “Do you understand why you have to use the vial? You need to get him alone. Make him vulnerable.”

 

“So he can be sent back to Hell.” It wasn’t a question. This was the plan they’d worked on together. It was what she’d agreed to in Rome when his face---when _what_ Lucifer actually was---plagued her nightmares and left her bolting up in bed at 2 a.m. When she saw that red, scarred face and the eyes that burned of literal Hellfire, but still had to keep herself from screaming lest she scare Trixie too. She’d agreed to this, and that small, scared animal part of her brain still chittered in the background. She _needed_ to help, didn’t she? “I…I understand.”

 

“Do you have a chance to get him alone. It doesn’t matter where. There are dioceses all over the state. If you need to maneuver him somewhere more quiet, out of the city, we can do that.”

 

She wondered not for the first time, why Father Kinley had approached her. Yes, she’d been the crazy woman in Rome asking for every book and scrap of facts that the Vatican could provide her about the devil. Chloe had been far from subtle, but Father Kinley acted like she was so very important. Couldn’t he just go to authorities in the States with what he knew, even if most of it were conjecture? For all she knew there was a network of exorcists and demon hunters all over the world he could draw on.

 

She barely knew anything, and what little knowledge she’d stumbled onto last month made her feel like she knew even _less_ than she had before.

 

But there was something in Kinley’s voice, some maniacal pressure that felt specific to her. It was as if she had to be there, that she had to be the one to slip Lucifer the vial of sedative---it was sedative right---and no one else.

 

“I…we’re working a case right now.”

 

“Surely you can get him somewhere quiet socially. You know we’ve discussed the date option.”

 

Chloe swallowed hard at that and looked over her shoulder. Whatever Lucifer and Ella were talking about around that box had them both absorbed. As she watched, the forensic scientist laughed loudly and doubled over before slapping Lucifer on the shoulder. Good. She needed to get her head on straight, get on the phone, and get back to solving _The Cabin_ mystery. If she hesitated or acted weird, then Lucifer might know what she was planning. He’d been himself so far, worked to help her stop the rogue witness protection program agent. He was being accommodating on this case so far, even grounding her when she’d been hunting for any old confession that would suffice.

 

But if he found out she were plotting against him…

 

Would that face that had driven Jimmy Barnes insane be turned full force on her?

 

Her hand started to shake, and she inhaled sharply. He was amused with her now, but Lucifer had the most mercurial of tempers. She’d seen it when struggling to get him to pay attention on a case. What if pursuing her romantically---since there was no doubt that was where they’d finally been headed before Charlotte’s murder, before Pierce, before that _face_ \---bored him eventually.

 

God, would he ever hurt Trixie?

 

The thought of the Devil one day turning love to hate, affection to scorn and leveling that at the most precious person in the world to her froze Chloe’s blood. It didn’t feel like the Lucifer she knew, like the partner who’d been nothing but considerate of her since she’d returned from Rome. But the partner she knew didn’t really exist, did he?

 

“I’ll get him alone. I’ll…you’re right, I can figure out a context for a date, maybe back at his penthouse. I’ll keep you posted via text. I…this is the right thing, isn’t it?”

 

Kinley practically purred on the other end of the line. His brogue exaggerated she knew to be as soothing as possible. And while Chloe was sure the Vatican was using her as a pawn, for Trixie’s sake, she didn’t even care. “It is and remember this is for Lucifer too. He’s an abomination, but he’s still a divine being. He doesn’t belong on this plane. Angels, demons, and devils weren’t meant to walk amongst mortals. He needs to go home, and then Los Angeles will be safe again.”

 

“Alright, I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up then, trying not to listen to all the thoughts warring in her mind.

 

That mother grizzly bear instinct was screaming at her to do whatever Kinley asked, to betray her partner and the man---no, not a man---she’d almost fallen for because what if he could hurt her child. Then, there was the scared, gibbering part of her hindbrain that couldn’t stop seeing that scarred, burned face. The real face of Satan, himself. It felt wrong. What Lucifer was deep down had to be wrong, didn’t it? And yet, a million other memories forced their way to the surface, so many times he’d saved her from the first case they’d worked on to Malcolm stealing Trixie to the antidote. He’d found it for her somehow, and now that she knew he was the Devil, she assumed something mystical had to have been involved there too.

 

_He keeps saving me._

_He broke me._

 

And even as she neared Ella’s lab, the memory of Lucifer that was seared most firmly in her brain wasn’t of the way he truly was in the loft after the shootout. No, it was of the utter pain and sadness on his face when she’d bolted from his touch on the bridge. That couldn’t have been a lie. She’d wounded the Devil, her very rejection had driven him into such sadness as she’d rarely seen on his features.

 

But what part of the kaleidoscope was even true? How could she tell?

 

She forced herself to be professional and brisk. It wouldn’t be hard. So far, the alibis based on the camera footage had held up. It was looking harder and harder to ferret out which contestant on the reality show was just lying about the murder and not their whole self-image. It always sucked having been painted into a corner.

 

“Hi guys,” she said, hoping her voice sounded as polished as she was trying to make it.

 

Lucifer and Ella parted. She was still red-faced from laughing, but Lucifer was more somber. He had been since she’d come home from Rome. His wide eyes had watched her with more rapt attention than he ever had before, and even after them making some amends over his piano a week ago, he still kept probing her. He was waiting for the other shoe to truly drop, and Chloe understood that.

 

And he wasn’t wrong. She had the vial in her purse. She’d been on the phone with an exorcist. The other shoe was going to drop, and it was going to be worse than even Lucifer was anticipating.

 

It burned her to even think of it. Because when he looked at her now with those big, brown puppy eyes with such need and hope, she could mostly just see her partner. But those weren’t him. The Hellfire danced underneath and if just once it came for Trixie…she’d never forgive herself.

 

“Chloe! Hey, we were just uh…talking.” Ella fumbled a bit and then started pulling up some files on her laptop. “We don’t have much coming up on forensics either. Still the idea that it had to be some kind of blunt, almost cube-like object. Everything hit her at a right angle. No idea what on the set of _The Cabin_ could do that yet.”

 

“Yes,” Lucifer nodded, the spell broken as he turned his focus to Ella’s screen. “Since most of those mouth-breathers also were each others’ alibis…if you’ve any other calls or information, it might help.”

 

“Everything’s checked out so far. Until we regroup in the morning and pour through more unused footage, I don’t think we’re going to find what we need this afternoon or tonight.”

 

Ella squealed, which, okay was the weirdest reaction to a “no break in the case” bulletin that Chloe had ever heard. “Well, that means it’s time to just take the night off. I always think better after a brain break. I’ll probably be going to Lux and getting my drank on.”

 

Lucifer winked at Ella, and then straightened his lapels, which were already perfect but it was such a Lucifer thing to do. He nodded toward the box on the table. “If we’re taking the night off, Detective, then the date I’ve planned can go on as planned.”

 

She swallowed hard. They’d been discussing the date idea at the crime scene. It needed to happen, and for matters of apparently cosmic importance, which was now the life she was living. But she hadn’t realized he’d made plans beyond maybe reconvening at the penthouse.

 

“What’s in the box?” she asked, forcing her tone to stay light.

 

Lucifer fiddled with his onyx ring. “Please open it, Detective.”

 

“Totally, Chloe, you’re gonna love it!” Ella bounce up and down with all the energy of a cheerleader. It brought to mind flashes of her encouraging Chloe and Pierce before, and that enthusiasm curdled feelings in Chloe’s stomach. Ella’s judgment had been so very wrong before. Now, it was pushing her towards the damn Devil. “Please?” Then she shrugged. “I have a bathtub chicken and a missing---probably eaten---turtle. I need something vicarious, Chlo.”

 

She quirked her head but opened the package, mindful of the role she had to play. Her part in this horror movie come to life. Roses, she’d assumed, but the dress was something she’d never anticipated. It was both fancy and very chic, something she’d never buy for herself---knowing Lucifer, it would have cost more than a month’s salary---but she could tell from just eying its cut that it would fit her like a glove.

 

“I don’t understand. I thought maybe we’d do a quiet dinner at the penthouse.”

 

Lucifer started into a barrage, talking fast even for him. “I got us tickets in San Francisco for a performance of _La Traviata._ It’s one of my favorite operas, and I wanted to make our first date special. I…perhaps it’s too much.” His shoulders sagged and Ella’s face fell too. “I should know by now not to try and buy your affections.”

 

Chloe shook her head and forced her eyes to stay wide. She couldn’t lose him now, couldn’t drive a wedge between them that would prevent them from having some privacy. Then, she’d fail. “I’m more of a simple woman, that’s true. I haven’t ever seen an opera before.”

 

She was pretty sure being dragged to _Carmen_ as a cultural field trip in fifth grade didn’t count. She’d also fallen asleep before intermission because opera so wasn’t her thing. Wait, shit, Lucifer had literally been around before that was invented. Before humans invented music at all. Christ, and there was an operative phrase, he’d been around _before_ humans at all.

 

Her head swam again, and she blinked hard to focus. “We can still go…”

 

Lucifer smiled tightly and shut the box. “No, simple at the penthouse it shall be, Detective. I want to accommodate you. I know it’s a big step.”Before she could argue, he turned on his heels and strode from the room and towards the vending machines.

 

Once his long frame was out of sight, Ella turned to her and shook her head. “Chloe! Are you always this oblivious?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I mean, I get it. Grizzled cop, always on the job. It took you forever with P…never mind.” Ella blushed, as least having the sense to move on from beyond sore subjects. “You’re missing the signals today too. Lucifer is totally in love with you.”

 

Oh, that was obvious or at least, it was what Lucifer wanted her to think. It _felt_ real. Things like the impromptu prom at Lux, done just for her, or the way he’d kissed her so passionately the night everything went to hell with Charlotte’s death…those seemed so real. But Kinley said that Lucifer found ways to _accommodate_ , that he would find the right approach no matter what, alter things until he found an in.

 

She just couldn’t tell what was true anymore and what wasn’t.

 

And her traitorous heart that had lit up brighter than the neon strip in Vegas at seeing the dress and when hearing about such a romantic night wasn’t helping. Not when it was beating out of her chest, each tattoo telling her that Lucifer loved her.

 

_That she loved him back_.

 

“I’m not…I get it. The date’s a big deal.”

 

Ella frowned. “He chartered a flight to another part of the state, got the tickets and the dress, and he rented two hotel rooms cause he’s doing the whole gentleman thing, and like, be real, when is Lucifer never a full court press kind of guy with all the entendres? Dude, I’ve never seen him this shy. It’s like if you say no tonight, he figures you’re gonna reject him forever.”

 

“You all talked about that?”

 

She shrugged. “We talk about everything.”

 

Chloe’s eyes narrowed even if she hadn’t meant for them to. There was no way Ella talked about _everything_ with Lucifer. There was no way any human in his orbit knew everything. Because once you knew, how could you not be at least partially a gibbering, terrified mess most of the time and covering for it. Chloe knew she, herself, was, and she’d been an atheist. Ella was a woman of faith or had been. To know she’d been working alongside Satan would have scarred her.

 

So, no, not everything.

 

“Chloe, look, I know a lot of crazy crap has happened since, well, Charlotte.”

 

“Understatement.”

 

“And I get that after almost being killed and that the vest was great, but we all know that a few inches higher and you wouldn’t be here. You’ve had so many close calls the last few years. It made perfect sense that you’d get a vacation in Europe, try and rest up. I’d have chosen like a sunny beach in Jamaica, myself.”

 

“Nah, Trixie loved gelato. It was so worth it.”

 

“Exactly, so no one can blame you for being upset and even a little scared.”

 

She was a lot scared.

 

“But?” Chloe asked, settling her hand over the box with the dress. “I just thought we’d start simpler.”

 

“And after all you’ve been through and three years of dancing around each other, can’t you see why Lucifer would go the grand gesture route. He’s terrified if this date is less than perfect, that you’ll run away to Europe for real and never come back.”

 

“He said that?” she asked, and she peered back out of Ella’s lab. Lucifer perched on the edge of her desk, munching on some Cool Ranch Puffs but looking off into space. His expression was faraway as if his gaze were focused on something only he could see lightyears from the surrounding precinct. “I wouldn’t go to Europe again.”

 

“Then,” Ella said, shoving the box in her hands. “Do the date thing. It’s so Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ , that it’s amazing!”

 

“Wasn’t she a hooker in that?”

 

“She found true love. It’s not about being an escort!”

 

Chloe sighed and let out a laugh that she hoped at this point wasn’t hysterical. At this point, she wasn’t even sure she could avoid that. “Does that make Lucifer Richard Gere?”

 

Ella shook her head. “I hope not, you know what they say about that gerbil.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Her friend turned green just a bit. “We’ll talk about it after the date. Now go! I’m so sick of the Ross-Rachel schtick you two have. Sort your shit out.”

 

Chloe clutched the box to her chest, all the while aware of the vial stashed in her purse under her desk. Sorting everything out once and for all was what she was afraid of.

**

 

The date was beautiful. Actually, “beautiful” was too small a word for it. It was extravagant, gorgeous, passionate, and melodic all at once. The helicopter ride had made her somewhat dizzy at first till she’d accommodated to it, but the views of San Francisco lit up at night were lovely, a sight so few people ever got to see. The opera hadn’t been the dull slog of _Carmen_ long ago, and she figured it was because Lucifer was there with her. Mostly, he was well behaved, but he’d add a few anecdotes here and there under his breath, explained plot points. He’d known Verdi (because of course he had), and so he offered insight into the bits of inspiration the composer had taken to create _La Traviata._ But outside of his stories, it was just the experience of watching him watch. The rapture in his eyes, the deep concentration, even the slight sway of his body with the rhythm of the most moving arias.

 

Lucifer loved music.

 

It was wired into everything he did, not that he’d ever been subtle about it by performing in his own bar or never being a few feet from a grand piano. But she’d never really seen how much music moved and lived within him till now. He was as ecstatic, as hypnotized by a classic opera as by a cheesy nineties jam. It was all, if not the same to him, then at least a feast to be consumed and savored.

 

And watching him enjoy _La Traviata_ was mesmerizing enough to help her enjoy it, even if she barely had a clue what was going on.

 

After the show was over, they’d gone back to the Omni and her suite. His was on the opposite end of the same floor, but at her suggestion, he’d agreed to cancel their late theater-district dinner reservations and, instead, take room service sitting at the couch in her room. In part, it allowed her to slip from the dress into sweats and a t-shirt, something comfy after being bound up to wear such a form fitting dress. Lucifer, being Lucifer, was still decked out in his tux. Frankly, although she’d seen him voluntarily in a t-shirt and jeans once before, (not a great memory as it was the same day she’d shot him), it seemed right for him to always be so fancy. If he wasn’t flat out naked, which okay, seemed to be his second favorite choice of attire or lack thereof, Lucifer was decked out in nothing short of designer finery.

 

But this was easier too.

 

She’d texted Kinley in the garage of the precinct, before she’d even started home to get ready. It had been tight, but he’d been able to get up to San Francisco by calling in Vatican resources to fly him up. He was in the next room over from her with a cadre of fellow exorcists in his order, waiting for the moment she slipped Lucifer the mickey.

 

Another good reason to be casual while having their date in private. Once things went down, she’d want to have free range of motion, and the dress wouldn’t allow it.

 

But nothing had felt real about this plan until the dinner arrived, once the attendant wheeled the cart into the room with the meals under literal silver domes, everything was on. Her throat had never been so dry, her tongue never felt so huge and ungainly in her mouth. Lucifer tipped the kid generously, enough that he’d probably not make that much in another month at the hotel, and again that kind of expansiveness was nothing she ever would have thought the Devil capable of.

 

Was it an act? Was it him?

 

Was the creature she’d seen stabbing Pierce---awful as he’d been---through the chest with the alien, red eyes actually Lucifer? Or was it her almost broken partner, mournfully failing to play the piano with an injured hand, admitting quietly that even after eons he couldn’t accept his monstrous side either?

 

She just didn’t know, but she had to err on the side of caution, didn’t she?

 

“You’re quiet, Detective?” Lucifer said, as she took a seat at the table across from him. “Did I tire you out?”

 

“Maybe a bit. It’s more that if it’s a school night, I’m in bed by ten.”

 

Lucifer chuckled. “Far from my schedule, I’ll grant you that.”

 

She nodded even as the lobster was passed to her. Lucifer, for his part, had a steak and him cutting into rare, bloody meat right now was doing nothing for her concentration. Or sanity. “Exactly, and it’s this case. It still bothers me. I know there’s something I’m missing with _The Cabin_ cast. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

 

“But we will figure it out, and we will get justice. We always do.”

 

“We’re a good team,” she said, and her throat almost closed up as she spoke. It was true, and she wasn’t sure what it said about her that the Devil was the best partner she’d ever had. That she truly was a better detective with him beside her. “I just hate feeling like I’m being played, but everyone on that show is pretending to be something else.”

 

“Nature of reality television, I’m afraid. What a fiendish invention it is.”

 

She sighed. “Yeah, but tonight’s been beautiful.” Chloe bit into her lobster and almost moaned at how buttery it was. Some tiny part of her, that small selfish part that always flinched when she opened the bills at the end of the month, tempted her, reminded her that it could always be this good if she just let Lucifer take care of her. Not that she’d ever really relied on him for his wealth, but it was still nice. She could understand in that moment why people sought favors from him. But she wouldn’t lose her soul, damn it. She wouldn’t lose _Trixie’s_. “I honestly didn’t think I’d like the opera.”

  
“See, I knew you weren’t a complete Philistine, Detective.” Lucifer winked at her, and she tried her hardest not to notice the way his teeth dug into his meal. The lithographs had shown a bestial Satan biting the heads off children. He sworn he hadn’t, and that she believed almost. Lucifer tolerated Trixie but seemed to be very anti-children in general. Just befuddled and repulsed by them. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s always been a favorite of mine.”

 

“I dunno, when I read the play bill and saw it was about a courtesan…well, I was like is that really a first date story?”

 

He smirked, and it was a look she knew for a fact had been able to get any man or woman he wanted into his bed. “Darling, I was counting on this being the first of many.”

 

She took a deep breath. Chloe only had a little more to get through before this was all over. She couldn’t let her fear stop her, couldn’t let the worry overwhelm her. This was what Father Kinley had told her to do, what would be best for the world. What she was promised would be best for Lucifer too.

 

“Detective?”

 

“Sorry, like I said, just tired.” She forced herself to smile. “So, there will be more of these, huh?”

 

His own grin faltered, and there it was---the vulnerability in such warm eyes, like melted chocolate but it was all a ruse too. He didn’t look like that. He couldn’t be this because sending this man---her partner---back to an eternity in Hell would haunt her forever. She could send the creature she’d seen back without fail, but she was having such a hard time with the man she lo…with the man she’d known.

 

“I was hoping, if it wasn’t too presumptuous.”

 

The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “When have you ever been coy? Shy and retiring is not exactly your style, Lucifer.”

 

He set his utensils down and pushed his plate away. Lucifer shocked her by leaving his chair and getting to his knees before her. Reaching up, he touched her cheek and it felt like it always had. She wasn’t sure how that could be possible, but everything still felt as it always had between them.

 

Like electricity and possibility. Like dizzying highs.

 

And fate.

 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever felt like this about in my life, and now you can suspect how long that actually has been. Detective… _Chloe_ ,” he said, saying both syllables of her name like a long, exaggerated prayer. “I’ve never had someone see me, well, see _all_ of me, and accept me the way you have. Not in a romantic partner, not ever.” He looked away. “Assuming we get there fully someday, at your own pace of course.”

 

“I…”

 

He stood and straightened his lapels again. “Best not to ruin the Tom Ford, but I’m serious, Chloe. The fact that you’re here, that you’re willing to give us a chance even after all we’ve been through this last month…it means more to me than you will ever know. _You_ mean more to me.”

 

Chloe swallowed hard as she tried to remember how to breathe. “I…I know, and it’s a first date but we’ve had so much between us, and I’m not ready to say or promise anything but I would love more of these.”

 

_Would have loved them, if you were normal. If any of this wasn’t insane and dangerous._

 

And she wanted to cry right then because it wasn’t fair. None of it. If Lucifer were just her either overly theatrical or possibly delusional partner, she could have seen herself spending the rest of her life with him. But he was far more than that, a demon wearing an angel’s face. Smoke and mirrors and the Prince of Lies, and she couldn’t have him.

 

He couldn’t have her. Or Trixie.

 

“Then, I suppose that’s quite settled,” he replied, his tone lighter. “Oh, I have something for you back in my room. I’ll only be a moment.” He turned sharply on his heels, all long strides and preternatural grace, before hurrying out the door.

 

She didn’t have long. Bolting from the chair, she rushed to her bedroom and grabbed the vial from her purse. Her fingers fumbled clumsily as she drained it into his red wine, but she made it all in time. Just barely. She was readjusting herself in her seat after shoving the spent vial in her sweatpants pocket when Lucifer came back with an old school iPod of all things in his hands. Her phone was secreted in her other pocket, everything ready for the moment he took a sip.

 

Lucifer was beaming at her, that wide smile so different than the sardonic smirk he wielded like a weapon at work or the lascivious grin he sported at Lux. It made him look younger, boyish even, and she’d rarely seen such hope etched on his face. She’d put that there. He was happy---truly happy---for the first time since she’d ever encountered him because he thought they had a future together.

 

Bile tasted acidic on her tongue. She’d never betrayed anyone in her life, always executed herself with honor and morality.

 

This _felt_ wrong. Lucifer had done nothing to her but protect her.

 

_But he might have started the Chicago Fire, the Holocaust. Jimmy Barnes is a raving lunatic and if that happened to Trixie? What about Dan or Ella or anyone at the station who crossed him?_

 

Lucifer settled back down to the table and turned on the iPod. “Should have thought to bring a blue tooth speaker with me, but this was…I know you can’t be bought, Detective. I learned my lesson well before. But tonight, I wanted to spoil you after all the losses we’ve had and all the false starts. However, I understand you’re a different kind of woman than…” he frowned a little, seeming to realize that bringing up his conquests wouldn’t be helpful here. “...I know you’re a woman of more substance, and I promise you’ll set the pace. If next time, it’s just the penthouse with grilled cheese sandwiches, then I’ll love that too. Hence, you’re very own playlist of sweet nineties jams.”

 

She took the iPod from him, and how could he _not_ notice how badly her hands are shaking? It was a mix of the Bangles and Incubus, of Oasis and The Verve, of so many others and it was incredibly sweet he’d done this, especially considering all the times he’d teased her about her so-called appalling taste in music. It was so perfect and utterly Lucifer. So very much her partner that her heart dropped into her stomach.

 

In a flash, like a spell being lifted, Chloe knew that Kinley was wrong. He might have had Vatican records and paranoid rantings, but she _knew_ Lucifer. She knew the man before her, whichever face he wore, and he was her friend. Her partner. The man she loved, and he wouldn’t hurt her or Trixie, let alone the whole damn world. She sprung up then, trying to grab the wine glass from his hand even as Lucifer brought it to his mouth for another drink.

 

“Detective, what on earth?” he stood quickly, but even as he did it, his nostrils flared. Confusion colored his brown eyes and then hurt flickered across his face. “This smells wrong.”

 

He dropped the glass immediately. There it was then, not the full face, but the flicker of Hellfire in his eyes, the red glow that she wasn’t even sure he knew was present. Perhaps it was automatic with him. Who knew anything about the Devil? She certainly didn’t.

 

“I…I can explain,” Chloe replied, hopping up too and holding her hands out in a placating gesture. But even she knew it was too late for a white flag now. “You don’t understand.”

 

The Hellfire was still there, blazing bright, and somehow that felt worse---more wrong---than his full Devil face. To see that proof of his otherworldliness in her…no _not hers_ …in Lucifer’s face shattered any illusions for her that he’d ever been human.

 

His voice was low, dangerous. Something she’d heard him tease at with subjects but nothing this deep or commanding before. The king of Hell was talking to her, and she knew that there was no way she could lie, could hide what she’d tried to do.

 

“What did you put in my glass, Chloe?”

 

And he has never really called her that. Detective is the loving moniker between them and before Lucifer she never knew anyone could make that one word a pet name. But he had. Until now, “Chloe” had been reserved for a few small confessions of feelings. For intimacy. It was tainted to have him utter her name with such controlled rage behind both syllables.

 

Her animal brain and instincts finally took over, and she stepped back from him. His eyes flickered just a moment, brown and normal and so full of hurt that her heart cracked at the sight of them. But they were back to red and glowing embers again, and she shook to see it.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Don’t lie to me now. I never---not once---did I lie to you about a thing about me. Don’t insult me now by trying to pull one over on me. It will not work,” and those eyes paired with that low menace in his voice…it was a preamble. The warmup act to what Jimmy Barnes saw, to what drove him and other subjects in the interrogation room insane. That much she knew.

 

Her voice was small and broken when she coughed it out. “Sedative.”

 

“A bloody what?” And somehow, in the overwhelming tsunami of fear, it still confused her and almost made her roll her eyes to hear him be British. Clearly, Lucifer was anything but that. “For what purpose?”

 

Her answer was cut off as the clergy next door, five strong priests built as much like brawlers as Kinley and led by him as their fifth, burst through the door. A few held up crosses and chanted in Latin and Lucifer stared, shocked, between her and them. The wheels in his mind clearly turned over until he found his answer.

 

“Europe meant Rome, didn’t it, Chloe?”

 

“Yes,” and her voice sounded more like the cry of a strangled animal than like her real one.

 

He shook his head and there was a flash of movement and the five priests are slumped in piles all over the room. At least a few seemed to still be breathing. Chloe wasn’t sure about all of them, and she so desperately wanted to be sure. When her mind could process the full scene, when she’d blinked enough to catch up with Lucifer’s inhuman speed, she caught sight of him in the kitchen with Kinley pressed up against the wall. Lucifer held the priest high, pinning him down with strength no human could have ever had.

 

She’d seen him do things like that before and been so dumb or willfully blind or maybe both to ignore it for so long.

 

_But I needed the eggs…_

 

She needed the tool that made her a better cop. She’d needed to solve crimes. She’d stopped asking because it was inconvenient. What had she kept loose?

 

Lucifer turned to her even as Father Kinley struggled in his grasp, his face turning purple. His face flickered like his eyes had and now that Devil from the loft was back, but this time his face wasn’t full of confusion or hurt. Now, it was determined and feral.

 

“Lucifer, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

 

He turned from her to the priest. His voice was a low growl when he spoke, and Chloe shuddered to hear it. It was nothing like the man she thought she’d known. “This your accomplice? What? Trying to poison me back to Hell, are we?”

 

Lucifer eased his grip just enough for Kinley to breathe again. To talk. “Be back vile fiend.”

 

Her former partner rolled his eyes and clamped tighter on Kinley until the man’s eyes bulged out. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

 

“Lucifer, don’t kill him.” _Don’t kill me._ But those words died on her lips. She had no right to ask that of him. 

 

But he shocked her then, and he’d been doing that for months now, by dropping Kinley completely and knocking him out cold with a fist to the face. The old priest was still breathing, and for that, Chloe thanks a God she didn’t believe in till a month ago. To _his_ Father because all Hell is breaking lose but at least no one is dead. Yet.

 

Lucifer rounded on her and again that damn speed. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. And it would be easier if he faced her as the monster she’d seen in the loft, as the beast that crumpled six large men to the ground as if they were nothing. To him, they clearly were. But it wasn’t that face she saw, not what had to be the real one.

 

It was the one that stared over her at the piano at Lux that first night. The one that had once held the impish grin and promised that he only liked to play. The one that had promised her with such sincerity as she lay bleeding out and coughing blood that he would fix it, that he would find a way to keep her alive. The one that had told her quite clearly that he _was_ a monster, and she’d countered then---in all her naivete---that he wasn’t, not to her.

 

But he was.

 

And she couldn’t get her mind around that.

 

Lucifer’s voice was his own again. Soft and seductive and so hurt when he spoke that it broke her heart freshly over again. “Just tell me why.”

 

“I was terrified,” and Chloe could barely breathe out the words. “Because you’re actually Satan. Because I have a daughter, and I can’t let her…”

 

He was the one who stepped back first, his head knocking back as if she’d landed a physical blow. For the first time since the loft, Chloe realized that she was always the one with the power in their relationship. For all his divine and infernal abilities, for all his ancient age and power, _she_ had the leverage over him. It had never been the other way around.

 

“You can’t trust me. You can’t…” he gestured to his face but did not change. “You can’t see past what I am, and everything else was pretty words and a façade to set this up.”

 

“Lucifer…you have to understand.”

 

He clenched his jaw and it took a while for him to speak. “Oh, I think I do very well, _Chloe._ ” And that time he spat her name out like blasphemy. “I am a monster even to you.” And she started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks as he threw her old words and reassurances back in her face. “And this monster has clearly overstayed his welcome on earth.”

 

“I’m sorry.” And she wasn’t even sure what she was sorry for. For working with Kinley, for her lies, for her fear. Maybe it was for even loving him at all, and that was the truth. Somewhere along their crazy partnership, she had fallen in love with him---was still in love with him---and she couldn’t stand herself for it.

 

“But it’s not enough.” Lucifer surveyed the room once more. “I have a deal, Detective.” And his voice is like ice in her veins.

 

“What type of deal.”

 

“They want me in Hell. You do too, wouldn’t have bloody well tried to poison me if you didn’t.”

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

“It is exactly what I think, and I will make a promise and not because I am good since we both know now I am anything but. Not even because I love you because I don’t fancy people who betray me. Ask Maze, I usually tear them limb from limb.”

 

She almost vomits at the thought. The Devil was mulling over the tortures he’d inflict on her, and there was nothing she could do to stop him if he decided to go for it. “Please.”

 

“But,” he said, his voice choking over that small word. And he reached out to cup her cheek. The gesture she knows, so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. If she closed her eyes then, she could almost pretend this wasn’t all crumbling so badly. But it is, and she might yet die. “But because I did love you, because I cared about you with all my heart, because I _felt_ something real for the first time since I Fell, I will broker you a deal.”

 

“What is it?” She asked, wanting to cry when he pulled his hand away.

 

“I will leave back to Hell. I will take Mazikeen with me, as she has wanted, and I will wait to come back here again till after you and Beatrice have both died of old age. I shall never touch you or yours, and when I do come back, it will be far from Los Angeles and far from the United States.”

 

It was the last thing she expected to hear. With he anger bristling through him, Chloe expected threats and torture, to have the cops of San Francisco call Dan in the morning and explain she’d been found in _pieces_.

 

“Why would you…What do I do in return?”

 

Those huge eyes, so sad, and so human and was that a trick? Was that more of the _Prince of Lies_? She wanted to believe it was. But Chloe knew better now, knew Lucifer better than any priest ever could have, and now it was evident. She’d broken him. He’d given her love and faith and protection, and she’d spat in his face.

 

“You do two things---never look for me because we both know you won’t find me. I’ve no use for pathetic half-apologies made later to ease your soul. I’m not even in that department, not really.”

“And?”

 

He swallowed hard and glanced at the iPod still on the table, at something so silly, stupid, and perfectly normal for a boyfriend to do. Not that they’d ever gotten that far. Not really. “One more truth, and I shall go.”

 

“And Trixie will be safe?”

 

He flinched under her scrutiny. “I never would have harmed a hair on that little urchin’s head. If you’d ever known me, you’d have understood that.” His shoulders slumped but he kept his eyes focused on hers. Damn it, this would be so much easier if it were the Devil she saw, and Chloe figured he knew that too. “Would you have loved me if I were human? Would it have worked then?”

 

“But you’re not.”

 

“That wasn’t the deal. Answer me, and I go. Would we have had a future if I were a normal man?”

 

She thought back to everything he’d done for her, half of it---especially the impossible saves---because he was anything but ordinary. And yet, despite the bullets and poisons, the deadly diseases and the weird thing with his stepmother at the pier---despite the _big stuff_ , the moments that come to her mind first are of the very human times together. The board games with Trixie, the long stakeouts where his humor secretly amused and didn’t annoy her, the soft touch of his hand on her back or elbow leaving the station…sitting by the piano in his penthouse.

 

_Heart and soul_.

 

And she knew then, that if he were just Lucifer Morningstar, eccentric club owner, she would have spent the rest of her life with him.

 

“Yes.” The word felt like a betrayal, more than anything with Kinley, but it was her true sentiment. “Yes, Lucifer, I loved who I thought you were but I can’t…” she trailed off then, even with their deal, too scared and too pathetic to add anything more.

 

He sighed and then that demon face was back, but his voice was still soft as he replied. “Then I have my answer.”

 

There was a breeze then, and she gasped at the huge wings unfurling. Fluffy white ones with feathers as long as her forearm. Ones so large their ends curl up on either side of the hotel room’s walls. Chloe barely had time to process any of it, that Devil with the snow white wings, before there was a second gust of wind and he was gone.

 

Never to be seen again.

 

After all, no one made deals as iron clad as Lucifer. And as little as she’d known about him---about his true heart---Chloe was certain he’d keep to this one as he had all the others. He would never darken her or Trixie’s doors again. And she was the more empty for it.

 

Crashing to her knees amongst the carnage, Chloe let the tears come, let the sobs be wrenched from her throat.

  
As the minutes turned to hours, she wasn’t even sure who she was crying for. _Him or her_.

  
She’s still not sure, and she never will be.


End file.
